The first time I realized my heart was skipping beats, the night was dark and close. I had felt that hard, intent thunder in my heart before, but it wasn’t until that night when I was sleeping on my stomach with my arm tucked close to my chest that I felt the nothingness that came where beats should have been.
My heart was stopping. It was not beating when it should be beating.
I listened and waited. It did it again, and again. Each time, it caught itself just in time and shuddered. My mind raced. What could be going on?
My husband breathed in and out next to me. He could sleep because he didn’t know I was dying. Probably he would feel bad about that in the morning.
I thought about waking him, just to have someone there with me, just to have someone know that my heart—my heart—was broken. But he had to work the next day and I couldn’t bring myself to wake him up for something I knew was okay.
It was okay.
Everything would be okay.
Then my heart stopped again. It missed a full beat. The silence of that beat felt like an eternity. I waited. “My heart has stopped! My heart has stopped!” my mind screamed.
It is amazing how much panic a brain can cram into the space of a single heartbeat.
Just as suddenly as it stopped, my heart pumped itself back alive again. The force of it made my shirt jump. I could see it, even in the monochrome midnight.
Over and over again the cycle repeated, sometimes as often as every other beat.
I breathed in slowly and let the air flow out in measured increments, trying to calm a muscle that seemed to have a mind of its own. It didn’t make a difference.
Even harder, I tried to control my thoughts. You are worrying, I reprimanded myself. You need to pray. Just pray.” But the prayers that rose to my lips mingled with frantic, fearful questions. How do I stop this? Should I go to the emergency room? What if I go to the emergency room and nothing is wrong? What if I don’t go and something is?
Oh, Kristie, why is it so much easier to worry than to pray?
That night dissolved into fitful sleep. Over the next few weeks, the heart palpitations came and went. Some days, I felt almost normal. Other days, I collapsed into a chair because holding a wild, frantic heart in one’s chest is exhausting.
The doctors are trying to figure out what is going on. So are my friends. I have tried every remedy for heart palpitations known to man. Some seem to be working.
Then it starts again.
Every time I succumb to another episode, I am reminded of how frail I am, and how deceived I’ve been to think otherwise. Because I can think I have faith until my heart stops beating under the same roof where my babies sleep. I can be brave and strong in the daylight, but when the darkness comes and my heart is tripping along the fence between life and mortality, fear rushes in where faith should be and I find that I cannot move mountains; these mountains are moving me.
I am shaken.
The truth is, I do not want to settle accounts today. I have words to say, still, and things to do, and holiness to become, and well, shoot, I thought I’d be better than this before I went.
Even when the sun comes up and nothing more has come of it than another night of little sleep, I do not breathe any easier. When your heart doesn’t beat half as much as it should, you are twice as thankful when it does, and you wake up knowing that these fragile hours are not to be wasted.
That’s the kind of clarity that comes from dying. I am not dying, and yet I am. Every day, a little more of this offering burns up, and a little less is left to be burned. And I think of how much smoke I’ve spent on very little sacrifice.
I do not want to spend the remainder of my days, be they many or few, on charades. I do not want to waste it.
So I traipse off to doctors and get hooked up to all sorts of things that can only begin to plumb the depths of my heart and I try to take a good look at the stuff that doesn’t show up on any of the tests. I swallow things I was told to swallow and rest the way I was told to rest, and in between I tear down the altars I built thinking I could sacrifice my life the way I wanted to a God who does not ever accept grand achievements as substitute for contrition.
“Some things might have to change,” the doctors tell me, and while they might be referring to my coffee intake and the way I don’t sleep, I choke a little because I wonder if God’s been talking to them the way He’s been talking to me.
This skipping, obstinate heart cannot be allowed to continue to march to its own rhythm. The doctors know it. So do I. I cannot continue to serve myself under the auspices of serving God. I cannot pretend to pour into my children when I’m really wasting more time than I’m investing. I cannot minister only when it’s comfortable and I am in control.
I cannot spend any more precious days counting on the strength of my own broken heart. The beautiful truth is, I have a broken heart. But the breaking seems to be the very cure I need.
Whom have I in heaven but you?
And earth has nothing I desire besides you.
My flesh and my heart may fail,
but God is the strength of my heart
and my portion forever.
Psalm 73:25-26
I have irregular heartbeat as well. I know exactly all the physical feelings you are describing. In my case, none of the tests (24-hour monitor a couple of times, ultra-sound of the heart, etc) have ever found an issue. This started when I was pregnant with my now 17-year old, and I’m probably healthier now (at 47) than ever. I hope it’s the same for you!
It’s strange how it can come and go in people. I’ve heard from several women who had heart palpitations at my age, and then they went away. I hope that’s true of me!
I do want to say that I do still have them, but having now had them for over 17 years, they aren’t as scary to me and haven’t caused me any issues at all. So even if they don’t go away (although I hope they do for you!), they still don’t cause any issues other than I just don’t enjoy it. Blessings!
I started having heart palpitations years ago. They ran all sorts of tests, I was hooked up to a monitor, even had a panic attack. Through it all, they concluded my heart is good. They don’t know why I get them. In hindsight, I think some might have been stress, some hormonal. But they come less than they used to. Hang in there. God has your heart and your life in His hands and I know He will take good care of you.
It is good to know He holds me in his hands! Thank you, Dionna!
Kristin, my heart is broken too. But, I don’t have the physical symptoms as a daily reminder. I have spent years going my own way, and not realized that I need to be listening to God. Thank you for your honest blog that reminds me. You and your family are in my prayers.
“Prone to wander, Lord I feel it, prone to leave the God I love…” That line of “Be Thou My Vision” gets me every time because it is so painfully true. Thank you for your honesty and for continuing to pray for us. God is so good to give me so many sisters who carry my burdens with me.
What a difficult time this will be until things are figured out. Stressing out will not help but how to stop doing that. I just can’t imagine it. Breathe deeply. Repeat. I’m praying for you right now!
Thank you, Rita! Breathing is a good thing. 🙂
I am praying for you, for health, patience and peace.
Thank you, Carole. I need all of those. 🙂
I’m sorry to hear the doctors haven’t made a diagnosis as yet. 🙁 One of the hardest things with health problems is the waiting and not knowing the cause. Sending prayers and thoughts.
Thank you, Grace. The waiting IS hard, but I console myself with the thought that the major things (like actual heart deformities) might have been caught already. As we rule out the obvious, I’m hoping the problem is something less serious.
so many prayers.
Thank you, Kate.
I am 31 and a young mom, and I have a health problem called Postural Orthostatic Tachycardia syndrome. My heart races upon standing, and skipped beats is a frequent symptom for myself as well. It is very frustrating and can be very limiting. The skipped beats are PVC’s in my case. (Pre-ventricular contractions). They have caught mild situations on monitors, but of course the worst always happens without record. I can literally feel my heart stop beating, and if you feel my pulse at the time (which I have had my husband do) … You can feel the missed beats more easily. It is scary, but I guess somewhat harmless. Some feel it more than Others. For myself it feels like the wind get’s knocked right out of me, and if it continues to happen in succession, a host of other symptoms. Stress, caffeine, and for me with P.O.T.S,being on my feet for any length makes it worse. Hope that is maybe helpful, but either way you are not alone in your struggles …
Yes–you can feel my heart stop when you take my pulse too. It’s the strangest feeling! I am writing down your diagnosis, just in case it is helpful. Thank you for sharing your experience. It is nice to know others can understand, especially because I struggle with feeling guilty about how much it wipes me out some days. I know I shouldn’t, but I’m a mom. 😉
Just read your post and just prayed for calmness, strength of heart, and that our Lord would allow you to be here…to be the wife, mother, and encourager (through this blog to us). Certainly was a hard post to read, harder for you write, and hardest to “see” where I need to be changing as well.
Thank you for sharing in how we can be lifting you up in prayer.
Thank you, Victoria. Those are the prayers of my heart as well. Amen and amen.
I stumbled across this post and thought you may find comfort in my friend’s journey… I pray healing and peace for you!
http://debbiemulidoresjourney.blogspot.com/?m=1
Thank you! It is strangely comforting to know that others are in the same position. I don’t know why–it shouldn’t wish it on anyone!–but it is nice to know that others understand.
How these words resonate with me: “I tear down the altars I built thinking I could sacrifice my life the way I wanted to a God who does not ever accept grand achievements as substitute for contrition.” He’s been teaching me the very same thing through some physical trials of my own. Praying for strength for you while you wait on the Lord!
Thank you, Jen. I am praising God that He is using my experience for good in your life as well.
Ive been thru so may trials.
The idea of “pray hardest when its hardest to pray” comes to mind.
And the way that 365 times in the Bible we are told “Do not fear”
And that His will is the best, even when we dont understand.
I, too, am weak, but He is strong; I will be praying for you.
Thank you, Kate. It is so true that He is strength is best seen when I am at my weakest, and I am thankful for the picture of Christ I have seen in this trial. If I come out of this knowing Him any better, or seeing Him to be any more faithful than I knew Him to be before, it will be worth it.
Thank you for sharing this trial with us. God amazes me, how He works in our “hearts” in just the ways we need. I am praying for you as you go through this time of waiting.
Loving on you from afar. Praying for you…..
Thank you, Susan.
No diagnosis to share? Praying.
I’m afraid not yet. 🙁